


From the Journal of Tyler Durden

by orphan_account



Series: From the Journal Of... [1]
Category: Fight Club (1999)
Genre: Diary/Journal, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Mental Institutions, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3577350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter what the psychiatrist says, I refuse to sign ‘Tyler Durden.’ If I betray that part of myself, there’s no coming back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One: Fuck Mental Hospitals

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know where this is going, it's just going. There will be more Tyler/Narrator to come as Tyler comes out more. Maybe they'll escape from the hospital, who knows. For the most part, entries will be short and they may or may not come daily.

_March 19, 2000_

 

The psychiatrists think it would be a good idea for me to keep a journal, get my feelings in order. ‘Write down whatever,’ they say, ‘Write down your story.’ Well you already know my story, and you already know that it isn’t mine to tell. It’s Tyler fucking Durden’s. But whenever I say that, all I get are strange looks. I know why—they think Tyler and I are the same. We shared the same body, yeah, but Tyler is my antithesis, and he is a completely different person. Why am I saying ‘is’?

Everyone looks at me with such… pity in this place. I try telling them it isn’t me they should pity. I live with white padded walls, they live with the piss and shit of the world, slugging through with smiles as artificial as the chemical stench in a normal hospital. Normal… what even is that? Is it Tyler? Is it soap? Is it this place? Is it outside? In the end, there’s no real difference. Everything is fake and the whole world is weeping. Some of them are weeping because Tyler isn’t here anymore. I’m not sure whether or not I’m one of those people.

I’m not sure about a whole lot of things. My feelings, for one. How do I write down those when I don’t even know what they are? What happened was… fuck, for one thing it was exhilarating. I finally got away from all of it, from the shitty desk job and the khakis and the boss trying to put me down to feel up. It doesn’t make me a special snowflake, but it at least changes things. Another feeling I have is… annoyance. Speaking of, Marla showed up yesterday.

My conundrum with Marla is that I don’t consider her mine, I consider her Tyler’s. I don’t want her. I mean, I want to fuck her but that’s only because I barely get any in this place. Or rather, I get none. Jerking off feels weird because the cameras are always watching, and I’ve never been one to get off with others watching. The one time I did get off was because I was thinking of fight club. Flesh hitting flesh, violence, blood. Then, for just a second, it was Tyler jerking me off and talking dirty about how I liked being watched. I think he’s a goddamn liar, and I think he’s the one who enjoys it.

Maybe I really am going crazy. Maybe I belong in this lone cell, with another bed because the psychiatrists say Tyler might come back. They want him to come back so they can talk to him. They think they want that, at least. They don’t know jack shit. But being locked up here, having to live in my head because the other patients can’t understand me, it’s making him stir. I figured I couldn’t kill him. He’s coming back and he wants more than ever. Now that I _know_ , though, it feels…

Imagine dropping two pebbles into a stream beside each other. Imagine the ripples spreading, out and out until they hit each other and become one larger ripple just for a second. The rest of the ripples are still separated, but the ones that hit are the same. Two pebbles, two sets of ripples, one overlap. That’s what it feels like. Tyler’s outside of me but now he’s inside too, and I can feel him crawling under my skin. And that, _that_ feels exhilarating. Being Tyler, not being Tyler at the same time. He wants, I want. When I decide to let him out, maybe he’ll let me out.

…I don’t even know who’s writing anymore. All I know is that I can’t take this much longer. I am Jack’s dissonance. Tyler Durden will be the death of me.

-Jack

P.S. – No matter what the psychiatrist says, I refuse to sign ‘Tyler Durden.’ If I betray that part of myself, there’s no coming back.


	2. Day Two: An Engaged Man

_March 20, 2000_

This morning I woke up with the taste of ash in my mouth and the pleasure of pain on my knuckles. For the first time in a long time, I felt satisfied, even as one of the male nurses came into my room to wrap my hand. He didn’t say anything about it, but the imprint of a fist crumpling his nose and knocking out a tooth didn’t leave much to be said. He was one of Tyler’s lackeys, and Tyler somehow found his way out last night. I wonder if the security guards are on his side. Maybe. Probably. Security guards have a lot of aggressiveness that only Tyler can beat out.

My satisfaction died an hour later when Marla came to visit and somehow ended up in my cell. Sorry, ‘padded room.’ I fucked her like a dog in heat, with no form of protection or anything. But I couldn’t come. Tyler was laughing at that, even as I pushed Marla over the edge again and again. Fuck Tyler. Just as I was about to come, I blanked out, and the next thing I knew Marla was saying she’d come back to my ‘padded room’ every day. And we’d do it over and over until she got pregnant. Isn’t that fucked up? But then Tyler asked Marla if she wanted to marry me when I got out, and now suddenly I’m an engaged man.

I want to kill myself but Tyler won’t let me. I cried like a baby and then Tyler jerked me off and I came so many times I feel like I’ll never be able to come again. He isn’t talking to me, but I can feel his intentions as clear as day, and I know soon enough I’ll be able to see him the way I could before. As if he’s actually in the room, laughing, hitting me, talking grand about Project Mayhem. I know he can get us out of here anytime he wants, but first he wants to beat me down so hard I have no choice but to fight back. Ultimately, that’s what he wants. In his own sick, twisted way, Tyler Durden is looking out for me by pounding me into dominance. Other people get pounded into submission, but I’m the opposite. Tyler wants to be the only one who can control me.

Outside, his lackeys are gathering again for something. I know because Tyler knows, I know because he wants me to know. He doesn’t want me to know what it’s for, but it’s only a matter of time before he gets us out of here and I learn all about it. I’ve come to accept the fact that I’m weak without Tyler. I’ve also come to realize that being weak isn’t necessary a bad thing. But Tyler disagrees, and so he won’t let me take the pills that may or may not supress him. Doc, if you’re reading this and Tyler isn’t controlling you, inject me with the same shit you put in the pills.

 

-Jack

* * *

 

**Doc, if you’re reading this, you can fuck off and stop tugging your one inch dick to your fucked up patient’s most private thoughts.**

**-Tyler**


	3. Day Three: Welcome to Fight Club

_March 21, 2000_

 

Tyler well and truly came back today. I was sitting in the common room with the other patients when a new guy came up and started bothering me. Laughing, saying something snide about whether or not I could fuck myself since I had two different personalities. It’s always the new ones that cause problems; they don’t realize they’re crazy until they’ve spent some time here. Anyway, he was getting right in my face and I could feel something taking over, an anger at life that was going to burst forth through my fist. Until, suddenly, Tyler Durden walked in one of the doors.

Tyler did such a number on him that the guy pissed himself, sobbing and babbling on about how sorry he was. Then Tyler held out a hand to me. The fact that the fists were bruised and caked with blood from both Tyler and the guy he’d beaten the shit out of gave me no choice but to take his hand. It _felt_ real, and that was when I realized I truly am crazy. Whether or not Tyler’s a part of me, I still consider him an entirely separate entity. He grinned and pulled me out of my seat, and then we started fighting. No one stopped us. They all watched as Tyler bloodied my face and I bloodied his, both of us howling in laughter like some insane, warped version of human hyenas.

When we were done and I was laying on the ground, realizing for the first time just how white the ceiling was, Tyler extended a hand to everyone around us.

“Do you want me to do the same to you?”

Every last one of them nodded.

 

-Jack


End file.
